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Friday, October 23, 2015

There's a crispness in the air and the PitchSlam tag has come alive! You all received your owls and some of your boarded the Hogwats Express bound for Hogwarts!

Some of you tried your best, but platform 9 3/4 had a spell on it and you couldn't get through. (Darn Dobby trying to protect you!)

So you followed Hagrid, stood in the same chamber we did waiting for it to happen. And then it did! You entered the Great Hall and the Sorting Ceremony began!

The Sorting Hat was placed upon your heads and you found your house! And we welcome you all to House Slytherin! Below you will find your title and converse in the #PitchSlam common room.

But make sure you have your wands ready! For Hogwarts is under attack! The Death Eaters have returned and taken some of our fellow students and us Slytherins are not pleased about this! We needed them for...things!

Now we must defend our school and the entries stolen by the Death Eaters by cheering for each other in the #PitchSlam common room!

NOTE: Only agents may comment during the times listed above. Comments are on moderation so nobody may see what's going on behind the curtains. We want our Professors to have a little privacy while handing out points/spells. ;)

If you didn't make it on a team, please don't take it personally! We could only have 9 per a team and that left many more we wished we could have included, but couldn't. That doesn't mean you're horrible or should feel bad, because you shouldn't! It just means we had to make tough choices and pick those we felt were truly ready for the Sorting Hat and fight with the Death Eaters.

As someone who loves doing contest, I've seen all sides. I've entered and didn't get in. I've entered and made a team, but no love was given. Then there were times I got requests. It's a process that doesn't always lead you to your agent. I'm still querying, which is EXACTLY what you should and need to be doing if you're 100% positive your MS is polished and ready to show the world. Just because you didn't make it, this doesn't make it the end. Contests aren't for everybody and they're not the only path. Keep your head up and keep going! Never give up!

Hogwarts House: Cookie Vonn is sure she’d be a Gryffindor. But she’d like to speak with Dumbledore about those old-fashioned robes. Her sketchbook is full of new design ideas that may put Madam Malkin out of business!

Pitch: To be the next great fashion designer, overweight teen Cookie Vonn must take on an industry where thin is “in” and take down a fat shamer who’s after her internship and her crush.

First 250:

Skinny: Day 738 of Weight Watchers
No. You can’t just buy two tickets. That would be easy.

Let’s say you weigh five hundred pounds and know for a fact you can’t fit into a single seat on the plane. It doesn’t matter. One person equals one ticket. You can thank global terrorism for that one.

I watch the fat woman at the airline gate.

She’s in tears, wailing at the flight attendant. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get home?”

Maybe I should tell her how it works. Two years ago, I was her. Two years ago, I weighed three hundred and thirty pounds. I was too fat to fly.

I would tell her one thing.

You can lose the weight, but you won’t get what you want.

You won’t get home.

Fat: One week before Weight Watchers
Here’s what you have to do. At the airport, you have present yourself to the flight attendants at the ticket counter. They get to decide if you’re too fat to fly.

I’m on my way to New York, to a fashion preview. I’m the SoScottsdale blog’s nod to the brave new world where forty-eight percent of Americans are overweight.

I don’t know if I’m going to make it there.

This is how it starts. There’s a plane change at O’Hare. I get the feeling they’re watching me from behind the counter. I tell myself how paranoid that sounds.

Pitch: Fifth-Grader Paige finds The BFF Guide to Everlasting Friendship, promising everything she wants. But the longer the Guide’s in her possession, the more it possesses her. It may be the last friend she’ll ever have.

First 250:

Fifth grade recess is all about kickball until Sheri shows-off a bra strap, waiting in line for her turn to kick on Friday, makingMonday a dug-out strap fest.

“Check out my new trainer; it’s just like yours,” Molly Birch says, showing a white strap digging into her shoulder. The rest of the girls follow suit and snap straps on their own shoulders to show how well they copied Sheri.

When I asked Mom to get me a training bra she refused. ”P-please, Mm-mom. Everyone in fifth g-grade has a t-tr-trainer.” My stutter making it difficult to get the importance of my request across. Without a training bra, I’m nobody.

“You don’t need one. You don’t have anything to support, and we can’t spare the money right now.” Like that’s the point of training bras. Mom doesn’t understand anything.

Feeling brave, I pull the top of my shirt over my shoulder to show my undershirt strap. My strap is like a spaghetti noodle where the other girls have thick, padded lines under their shirts. Nervous of being seen as a training-bra-fraud bring out my stutter. “Mm-mmm-mee too.” My face contorts to get past the ‘m’ sound.

Molly bursts into laughter, and then everyone else does too. I catch Molly twisting her mouth, mocking me. When someone turns around, she smooths out her face.I walk alone to the only tree nearby and the sound of fading laughter. The closest I’ll be to ‘popular’ is sitting under this poplar tree.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor. Although Max starts out as being somewhat of a scaredy cat, he overcomes his fear in order to venture into the deep, dark forest to rescue his best pal, Chevis (the cat). This shows true courage, and the obstacles he encounters along the way help him grow and also shape his character in very unexpected ways.

Pitch: Young puppy Max turns detective when the family cat disappears, but finds himself up to his muzzle in trouble in a forest overrun by genetically-modified apes intent on snatching the nine lives of stolen cats.

First 250:

I am Maximilian the Stealthy, on the trail of a trickster cat with a weird sense of humor and no tact.
Max’s nose twitched with excitement as he followed Chevis’ fresh minty scent. Hide ’n Sniff was as easy to play as eating. No wonder Chevis hadn’t taught him the game sooner.

Because he knows my nose is sharper than his sharpest claw.
At the laundry room door, Max slouched to the floor and snuck up on the spicy aroma coming from the dirty-clothes basket. He took aim and jumped.

His face rammed into the side of the basket, which fell over. Clothes spilled out: Doug’s school shirts, Mom’s dresses, Dad’s gym stuff. The ache from the basket slam vanished as he pounced and pranced, bit and rolled. His ears tangled themselves in his paws and—

Hey! Chevis isn’t here.
Max shook himself in disgust and his ears whipped him across the face. Tricked again!

I am Maximilian the Hunter, resistant to distractions. Always.
“Meeoooow. That you, Max?”

“Chevis?” Max dashed up the stairs. What a dumb thing to call out before the end of the game. But Chevis had sounded scared.

The living room and bathroom were empty. That left the kitchen. Max skidded to a stop against the refrigerator. A strange smell prickled his nostrils and his hackles rose. He sniffed the floor: rust and grime, mingled with a metallic, sweaty odor he’d never encountered before.

Hogwarts House: Claire would be in Gryffindor because she fights for those she cares about and fights even when all hope seems lost. Justin's street smarts and no-nonsense attitude would land him in Slytherin.

Pitch: Teenage runaways Claire and Justin fight to escape a train that never stops and take control of their lives while battling shadow creatures trapped between life and death.

First 250:

Chapter 1-Claire

An inhuman cry bleeds through the train car’s wall from the black night beyond, and I feel a pang of sympathy when little Andrew shivers at the sound. I see him shudder in my peripheral vision.

I’m taking my life in my hands, looking out the window like this, but sometimes I just need to remind myself there’s a real world past those train windows. The second the inky shadow blots out the bone-like branches beyond, I snap my gaze back to the boy tucked into bed and sit down at the foot of the musty mattress.

“What were you looking at?” he asks, his voice fighting sleep.

Lying isn’t an option—he’s only been here a couple of years, but he already knows me too well for deceit to be an option. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

But I shouldn’t have been looking. The last thing this train needs is another attack. I’ve got to do what I can to protect Andrew from the shapes that stalk us.

“Stupid monsters,” Andrew says. He clutches the sheet in his fingers and I lean down, make him lock eyes with me.

“You’re brave. Say it.”

He screws his face up, trying to look like a little man, and my heart breaks for him. Andrew was nine when he boarded. Now he’s trying so hard to look twelve. He reminds me so much of my little brother. He has that same determined look in his eyes. “I’m brave,” Andrew says.

Hogwarts House: Emme would probably be sorted into Hufflepuff, because she's exceptionally loyal and dedicated, and breaking any sort of rule leads to much inner turmoil. She could definitely be sorted into Gryffindor though -- except she'd probably use Harry's tactic and ask the hat not to, mostly because she doesn't always recognize her own courage and bravery.

Pitch: Emme creates fully-customizable Dreams for clients, but when her own Dream causes a murder, she becomes a weapon for two revenge-obsessed rivals. Customizing this Dream will mean deciding who to trust -- and who to kill.

First 250:

Once someone's decided you're a hooker, there's not much you can do to convince them otherwise. Years of weekly interactions with Patty, my client's hyper-attentive security guard, had taught me as much.

I'd mistakenly mentioned her hatred of me to Albert Gibbons after one of her more intense glare-filled interrogations at the wrought-iron gates of his estate, and now the start of every appointment turned me into a liar.

Al ushered me down the hall of his guesthouse, gleaming white-tiled floor serving as roadmap to the back bedroom. "I trust you had no issues at the gates today?"

"None at all."

His deep laughter echoed against the barren walls. "You can be honest, Emmeline."

"No really. I mean, she still thinks I'm a prostitute, but that is totally fine."

It was totally not fine.

It might've helped, egotistically speaking, if I could convince myself Patty thought I was a high-priced escort, but everyone knows high-priced escorts don't drive Toyota Camrys.

I followed him through the bedroom doorway. "Better a prostitute than the truth, from a jail-time perspective at least. So anyway…should I be using the side entrance from now on?" Patty had been delighted to pass on the message that I shouldn't use the front door as I normally did.

A frown tugged at his lips. "No, just for tonight."

"Okay. We can get started then." I shivered as a blast of the arctic-level air conditioning nipped at my exposed skin. "Safeword for tonight, Mr. Gibbons?"

I’d had to tell Luke about my double life. It was the only way he’d agree to chauffeur me around town while I made my special deliveries.

“How well do you know Penny?” Luke asked from the driver’s seat. He stayed well within the speed limit as we passed Taco Bell and headed to the Valley.

“You’re not supposed to use real names,” I said.

Luke smiled, the dimple in his cheek only a shadow in the dimness of the car. “You know we mute real names.” He glanced at the video camera secured on his dashboard. “We’re almost there, black box at the ready.”

“For the record,” I said to the camera, “this excursion is brought to you by Joan Jett and all the girls out there who are through putting up with shit—”

“Language. I have to mute that, too.”

“Bad Reputation,” a favorite of mine by Joan Jett, blared on the speakers, and I sang along in my throatiest rocker voice until Luke laughed.

In payment for his chauffeur duties, I’d agreed to let him film tonight: a documentary featuring me as the doctor, prescribing various forms of cheer to people after life had knocked them on their asses. Even if that meant a cupcake—or two.

Penny’s house sat at the end of the street, perfect for a ding dong ditch. Luke parked behind a tree with branches so low they almost touched the roof of the car.

Pitch: In 1920’s Georgia, white parishioner’s daughter, Ginny falls for the black farmhand Pete. With her childhood sweetheart seeking her hand, and the KKK looming, Ginny and Pete’s hearts and lives are on the line.

First 250:

The steam engine slows to a halt, brakes squealing under the weight of the locomotive and carriages, the noise cutting through the quiet of the peaceful Georgia town. Outside the window, steam swirls around the platform. I stumble to stand, the jolt putting me off balance, and grasp the back of the chair in front of me. Going home for the summer isn't really going home when my father up and moved after my mother's death. Straightening my traveling coat over my dress, I am suddenly surrounded by young men rushing to help me with my bags.

"Thank you," I say softly, as a young lady of my background should. If I learned nothing else at boarding school, I had at least learned how to be gracious.

Following three young men out of the carriage, I step down from the vestibule. A hand flies out and catches mine to help me. With a quick glance, I smile at the kindly round face of my father.

"My sweet Ginny." He opens his arms for me.

I fall into them, resting my head on his chest. "I missed you, Pa. How are you holding up?"

"Oh, it's been difficult without your mother." He gives me a firm squeeze, then slips my arm through his. "I'm glad you're here with me now. Settling into a parish is always hard."

"Especially when you were at the last one for ten years." We stroll along the platform toward the gates, the sweet, fresh scent of oaks ad new grass filling my senses.

Hogwarts House: Our main character would belong to Gryffindor because she constantly stays brave, even in harsh situations!

PITCH: Seventeen-year-old Tessa Gill and seven other teens are picked to compete in a high-stakes international culinary competition; but the elusive host, the Chocolatier, might be holding secrets from the competitors. Willy Wonka’s whimsy meets Chopped.

First 250:

Tessa Gill stood on the brink of a human stampede, furiously scouring through her frayed coin purse. The merchant before her looked dull, his apron and shoes speckled with corn flour. He huffed, as if tired of his own business, and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Look, lady, I can’t keep waiting for ya. Either gimme the money, or scram.” Before Tessa could respond, he gestured for the next person in line to come forward.

“No, wait, I have it,” Tessa said, scrambling through her purse still. Behind her she heard pellets of shouts and swearing, bodies pressing in on her. She was at the front of the crowd, just in front of the merchant’s booth. The merchant, an old man nicknamed Pot because of his full belly, sold spare vegetables, herbs, and any other food he could get his hands on. Tessa looked back, seeing a rattled throng of Harkwood residents, each face as angry as the one before it. Because it was approaching Saturday evening, the square was overflowing with people. If she’d come an hour earlier, she might have missed the rush.

“What’s the hold up? Come on!” someone shouted. Tessa turned back around, her hands trembling in her purse, and fished out the rusted coins.

Discounts were few in Harkwood. The lights of New York City dwindled from afar, yet Harkwood remained a poor, pitiable town. It was as if all the dust and hopelessness of New York had condensed into one solid town that had become Tessa’s home.

Hogwarts House: My main character would be Gryffindor because she’s loyal and brave at heart.

Pitch: Twenty-year-old Tabitha Foster’s Selection Ceremony divines enigmatic Hunter Black as her true love. He must fall in love within a year or she’ll lose her magic forever. PRACTICAL MAGIC meets WITCHES OF EAST END.

First 250:

Oma lit the remaining candles in the room, including the black flame candle. The inky flame danced, rebelling against stillness of the air. Oma had covered most of her Victorian house in dark cloths and shadowy colored lace. If my whole life wasn’t about to change, I would almost enjoy the ambiance.

"Tonight is the night, Tabitha," Oma said ominously. "It's the beginning of the rest of your life." She tucked her long silver hair into her scarf and flashed me an affectionate smile. Since I was little, she'd always said things like that, just a little too dramatic and with ample thrashing of her arms, her many rings on her fingers clanking. We were all witches, but none of us were as dramatic as Oma.

I stared down at my lap; my hands were trembling.

This was it.

Tonight, after twenty years, I would learn the identity of my true love. And I would have exactly one year to win his heart or suffer the terrible consequences. I tried not to think about it but lately, it was the only thing occupying my mind.

My sisters had been so calm, so confident during their Flamma ceremony. Why did I feel so scared? They'd been through the Selection. All of them, except for Esmeralda. She still had a few more years.

Aunt Griselda took her seat at the table and ran her long, bony fingers across the velvet wine-colored tablecloth. "Are we ready? It's time. I can feel it.”

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

So my team decided to join in the fun and show our mock entries to #PitchSlam! Below you will find my "rough" pitch and first 250 of my current WIP. And just know, I too was nervous hitting publish so you are not alone!

****

Title: Mad Season (WIP)

Genre: YA Psychological Thriller

Word Count: (Still growing.)

Hogwarts House: Addie values justice and is very loyal so she's totally a Huffelpuff. Her stalker ex-BFF, Eirwen, on the other hand is very cunning and everything about her screams Slytherin and the Sorting Hat would agree.

Pitch: Someone's murdering girls and if 17-year-old Addie Delgado doesn't suck up her fear and get close to her stalker ex-BFF to gain information to the killer's identity, she'll join the dead girls club next.

First 250:

Two-thousand two-hundred and forty-three. No matter how many times I’ve tried to will that last number to change, it refuses. I reach out and lightly trace the white paint making sure not to touch the ugly green surrounding it.

“Three. Bet it’s not counting us though.” I snort and quickly duck my head, hand falling to my side as the wave of shame washes over me. Goosies tickle the back of my neck. I know, Mom. It’s just stupid small town crap.

“But still…”

A mockingbird lands on a nearby tree branch and rings out it’s good morning song. And in a flash a tiny glow awakens in the sky. I check my watch. Six-thirty already. Even though I’ve done this every day since I got home from camp, I can’t shake the fake surprise when the world remains the same as yesterday.

I’m a mile away from home. Just a far enough walk away to clear my head, but not make me want to hurl from overdoing it. My moms will be getting up a little over an hour from now, something I’ve managed to use to my advantage. The humid stickiness of no air conditioning could rip anybody from a comfortable bed in the dead of summer. Luckily I’ll be in the shower by then, foe-dirty breakfast bowl in the sink, and we’ll dance around each other for the rest of the day.

Hogwarts House: Flynn is definitely a muggle, but he’d be at home in Ravenclaw where his thirst for riddles and puzzles would be much safer to solve than the one ruining his life right now.

Pitch: After regaining consciousness inside a locker, fourteen-year-old Flynn’s sure life sucks. When an anonymous video goes viral, branding him the Zombie Bomber, he has to find who's behind it before they destroy more than his reputation.

First 250:

I come to in pitch black. The air is too close, too musty to breathe easily. Everything smells like old banana peels and my mouth tastes like I’ve been using a car key as a chew toy. “Where am I?” I can’t remember how I got into this dark place. “I was running.” Thin strips of light filter through the vents cut into one wall. I reach for them; it’s not a wall at all. “Am I in a locker?” The only other illumination comes from the glow-in-the-dark letters on my “Zombies Happen” t-shirt.

The green lettering is still brightly lit. I can’t have been in this upright coffin for longer than a few minutes. Flashes of memory hit my aching skull like one of my dad’s ancient vinyl records skipping on the player. There was a gigantic guy after me. “I was running from Brandon.” My heart thuds as I remember the twisted rage that filled his eyes.

“There was an open locker.” My voice sounds strange bouncing off the metal walls. Closing my eyes, I try to picture it. Everything is scrambled. Something digs into my shoulder. Another flash of memory. “There was a latte.” I shake my head, a bad mistake, the world spins. If I could fall over, I would, but there isn’t room in the locker.

The thing digging into my shoulder is a hook. “How did I get in here?” My brain yields no further clues.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Below you may post your first 250 words of your finished and polished manuscripts for critique.

Rules: There's only two rules.

1.) If you post your first 250 words for critique you MUST critique at least two others.

2.) Be honest, but don't be cruel. (I shouldn't have to explain what this means.)

Note: The Pitch Slam Team will NOT be critiquing these here. We will only critique/send feedback during the official rounds. If you want our feedback, please check the #PitchSlam tab for how to enter and all of the rules involved.

If you have questions, please don't post them on this post. This post is ONLY for your first 250 words and critiques. (I'm wanting to keep this clean and easy for everybody to post and reply.) Either ask on the Pitch Slam post, the #pitchslam twitter tag, or the FB group. (Or tweet us. We don't bite!)

Comments will remain open until the team posts are live. Then comments will be on moderation so ONLY the Professors/Agents to make requests/play.

1.) If you post your pitch for critique you MUST critique at least two others.

2.) Be honest, but don't be cruel. (I shouldn't have to explain what this means.)

Note: The Pitch Slam Team will NOT be critiquing these here. We will only critique/send feedback during the official rounds. If you want our feedback, please check the #PitchSlam tab for how to enter and all of the rules involved.

If you have questions, please don't post them on this post. This post is ONLY for pitches and critiques. (I'm wanting to keep this clean and easy for everybody to post and reply.) Either ask on the Pitch Slam post, the #pitchslam twitter tag, or the FB group. (Or tweet us. We don't bite!)

Comments will remain open until the team posts are live. Then comments will be on moderation so ONLY the Professors/Agents to make requests/play.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

As you've already seen it's Pitch Slam time again! As our theme is Hogwarts Cup, (Yay!!) each captain has chosen a house and has moved in with our selected Head Girl/Boy and Prefect(s). Today, I am here to introduce you all to which house I'm heading and my two fellow cunningly ambitious teammates! (Ignore the title and pretend I didn't already tell you, okay? Good.)

And the house I am heading is.....

Gif by Deathly Hollowes

Yes! That is right. This Pitch Slam I am proudly House Slytherin's Head of House!

Even though I'm a proud Hufflepuff and sometimes Slytherin I am so pumped to head this house! I actually love this house and can't wait for the sorting hat to sort you all so I can find the best students to win this!

#TeamSlytherinFTW!

And for those who think Slytherin can't win, I have one thing to say.

And what does Snape have to say about a Hufflepuff taking over as Head of House?

Let's just ask him!

Awesome!

See? You know you want to be sorted into Slytherin. After all, our team is Snape Approved!

Okay, I'll stop.

For now.

You're here to learn a little about #TeamSlytherin and I won't keep you waiting any longer.

So now a little about me and my teammates who I am sure you're dying to know more about.

Head of House: Jamie Corrigan (Me!)

Sorry in advance for writing this in 3rd person.

Jamie Corrigan lives in Texas with her husband. When she's not being a house wife she's busy writing or playing games with her hubby. (Final Fantasy XIII/XIII-2/XIII-3 anyone?) She grew up loving music and books and dreamed of one day becoming a singer or author. Even though the singing thing didn't work out, she's not totally heartbroken since she gets to live a different life every time she writes a new story or reads a new book.

Her writing style ranges from fantasy to contemporary, but it always has a touch of grit mixed with wit and a dash of southern flare. While she writes mainly Young Adult, she'll read anything from MG to Adult. (She may read some Picture Books too. Shhh.)

She loves contests and has been on both sides as a contestant and host. Jamie has been has been with Pitch Slam from the start and has fallen in love with diving through the slush and helping her fellow authors shape their craft. The banter with her fellow hosts and their amazing teams brings a smile to her face even when she's stressing over who will end up on her YES list.

Jamie's drawn to twisty thrillers and mysteries right now, but a lighthearted story or kickass fantasy could always catch her eye. Her motto is as long as it's well written and grabs me and won't let go, I'll totally read it!

At the moment she's in the query trenches, but she looks forward to meeting her agent soon. If you have questions for her or just want to say high, feel free to tweet her. (I promise I don't bite!)

Brandi Lynch writes YA paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy, and contemporary. She’s an anime fan and a casual gamer—she loves an RPG, but wouldn’t dare put her skills up against someone else. In games and books, fantasy and science fiction steal her heart every time. A Halloween fiend, she loves to create her own Halloween costumes.

What Brandi's looking for: Overall, I’m looking for a kickass story backed up by an awesome voice. Fantasy and Sci-fi are my faves, but I dig anything that makes me go, “Ooh!” So if you’ve got a killer contemporary, I’m definitely going to take a look!

Rebecca Waddell writes Young Adult and Middle Grade novels set in the real world or places born in her brain. When not petting wolfacorns or eating chocolate with her family, she blogs poetry. Rep’d by the completely awesome Jessica Schmeidler of Golden Wheat Lit.

Rebecca will be looking for entries that stand out like unicorns against the darkness of the forbidden forest and phoenixes because fire is hot.

And there you have it, #TeamSlytherin aka #TeamAwessssome! We really look forward to reading your entries and having a few of you in our house. (We wish we could take you all, but alas, not everybody can be a Slytherin.)

Feel free to drop by the #PitchSlam tag and see the other teams and join in the fun. And don't be afraid to follow #TeamSlytherin and say hi, we'd love to hear from you! (Look below the last gif to find the other houses.)

Now go shape those pitches and get that manuscript into the best shape and make that first 250 shine! Just know that we're cheering for you!!

Team Jedi Princess

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About Me

I am a wife, author, and a member of SCBWI. I am also one of four Co-Founders of #TwitWits. I am a YA author currently searching for a Literary Agent while trying to live my everyday life. My blog is about my writing. I like to give advice and share things I've learned along the way in the literary world!